


Rowan the Troublemaking Thief

by Misty_K



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Brynjolf is so done, Crack, Developing Relationship, F/M, Humor, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Maybe Additional Tags?, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Rating May Change, Ridiculous, Rowan sleeps around quite a bit, This Rowan is a troublemaker, rating did change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_K/pseuds/Misty_K
Summary: So there's this guy, Brynjolf recruited him because he saw that he was skilled. But he did not foresee the troubles that follows...





	1. Where Brynjolf turned into a Babysitter

**A/N: This is a very random story, pretty much my attempt at a crack. The chapters are in no chronological order and are also non-linear, depending on what is written. Whatever the chapters are will be mentioned at the beginning, the warnings will also be mentioned. As of now, this chapter is part of the normal storyline, featuring Rowan and also mentions of sex.**

* * *

Brynjolf rubbed his eyes as numbers began to swim before his eyes. He sighed as he flipped the page and counted again, making sure that all their earnings and salaries to the guild members are counted correctly. He checked the notes that Delvin and Vex had handed to him and recorded the amount of gold gained from their jobs and then subtracted their salaries from it, inking down the names of the members who took the jobs as indicated by the notes. Then he can write down the Guild's final earnings before he moves onto the calculations for the next job. He looked up at the ceiling of the Cistern and found that it was already dark outside. He had been at this since the afternoon. Brynjolf groaned to himself. This amount of paperwork was never an issue to him as it was mainly Mercer's job to keep records. Now, the Guild Master was nowhere to be found, having told them that he had a Guild-related matter to see to somewhere beyond Riften and, to put it bluntly, had dumped his work onto Brynjolf. Well, he isn't a stranger to paperwork and had done his fair share of them but jobs had been picking up recently as more recruits showed up. He was glad, it meant that things are looking up for the Thieves Guild but there was just too much to be done at this very moment.

He glanced at the remaining few sheets of paper that the Taskmasters have left him and steeled himself.

Just a few more left, then he can finally go to bed.

He'd just started work on the next piece when he noticed that Mercer had returned.

"Hello, Mercer," Brynjolf greeted, "How was your trip?"

Mercer looked upon him with his usual grim and stern expression that might instill fear in one of their fresh recruits. Brynjolf had gotten used to it as he had been spending much of his time around this perpetually grumpy man that even a truly heated glare no longer caused him the urge to flinch. However, he did know when Mercer was actually mad and knew to stay out of his way when the time comes. Fortunately, this was not one of them.

"It was fine," he huffed, walking over to the desk and sat in the other chair, "Are you almost finished?"

"Almost."

"Hm," Mercer nodded and focused on the flickering candle with bloodshot eyes.

Brynjolf briefly wondered if he could ask Mercer to fill in the records instead now that he's back but wisely decided against it. Mercer was a man who was quick to anger and it is unadvisable to say or do anything that might provoke the man. Although, with bone-deep weariness beginning to engulf him entirely, Brynjolf was quite tempted.

"This recruit of yours…"

"Yes?" Brynjolf blurted, startled out of his musings.

He blinked at Mercer, who had peeked over at his notes while he was not paying attention. Mercer's frown was deepening and he quickly asked, "Which of our recruits are you talking about, Mercer?"

"The small one, an Imperial, what was his name?"

"Rowan? What about him?" Brynjolf questioned, he felt apprehension crawling across his skin as he grew concerned about what Mercer had to say.

"He did the job in Windhelm, did he not? In that inn."

"He did," Brynjolf stifled a groan upon that mention.

"He got a bounty."

"I was aware." Brynjolf said, "He did escape, however."

"Yes, but that wasn't my concern," Mercer snapped, "What I wanted to know was why did he decide to masquerade as a bard and then sing the 'Age of Aggression' right there in that inn!"

"You heard about that."

"Of course I heard about that!" Mercer glared at him, "He was laughing about it at the Flagon just moments ago."

Brynjolf took a deep breath.

"And then there was the one in Solitude."

_Oh gods, please free me of this pain._

"Vekel told me that he'd slept with some woman in the alchemy shop before he robbed them! And now he has bounties in that hold as well as posters with his face on them, plastered all over Haarfingar!"

"I haven't heard about that," he admitted.

"Then there was that job in Markarth."

"Oh, gods."

"The guards almost arrested him when they found him screaming 'Glory to the Forsworn' in the middle of the city, all while standing over a corpse." Mercer ranted, "They only let him go when he revealed that he was reading this off a letter from the body."

"Wouldn't they assume that he wrote the letter himself?"

"There were witnesses who spoke for him," Mercer said in a calmer voice, before exploding, "They gave him a fine, which he refused to pay and then proceeded to somehow escape the city. They also put a bounty on him! And do you know how much it all amounts to? Five hundred bloody septims, for gods' sake!"

"I… I suppose we'll have to pay them off," Brynjolf said, bracing himself with a wince.

"YOU ARE NOT GETTING IT, BRYNJOLF!" Mercer roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "That recruit of yours is eventually going to cost us more money than we can earn from him!"

Brynjolf tried to ignore the stares that they're getting from the thieves who are still awake and looked at Mercer seriously, "We'll make sure he won't do anything like this again. Besides, he has rather exceptional talent in this business and it would be a waste if we were to remove him from the Guild."

Mercer was turning even redder in the face when the anger suddenly seeped from his face. He spoke in a calmer voice that was still tinged with anger as he stood up from his chair, "Yes, we'll have to make sure he won't do anything like this again."

"What do you have in mind?" Brynjolf asked, not liking the sound of it in the slightest.

"You'll watch him."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Whenever this... this Rodent goes out on a job, you'll have to go with him," Mercer said, his mind made up.

Brynjolf stood as well, "Hold on, Mercer, there are others to choose from in the Guild, I don't see why I have to be the one to follow him."

"He is  _your_  recruit," Mercer said, as if it totally made sense, "Rodent is therefore your responsibility, make sure he does not deliberately offend people, purposely muck up the job for fun or gods forbid, sleep with someone he should not be sleeping with!"

Brynjolf opened his mouth to protest when Mercer snarled at him, "Are we clear?!"

"Yes, sir," He said instead.

"Good," Mercer said as he glanced down at the ledger, "Now finish your paperwork. I'm turning in for the night."

Brynjolf looked at his retreating figure then down at the records he still have left to fill and emitted a very loud and defeated sigh.

And of course, Rowan had to go out for a job the very next morning.

* * *

"I don't see why you have to follow me to this job," Rowan said from atop his horse, "I'm alright by myself."

Brynjolf tried not to shiver as the cold morning air threatened to seep into his bones and set his weary eyes upon the other man. He has a slight build, barely thicker than Cynric or Niruin and just about the same height as the former jail breaker. His skin is darker and had medium-length hair as dark as ebony. Underneath the uniform of the Thieves Guild, the man had long limbs and carries himself with a catlike grace. His features are much finer, though, a rather odd sight in the murky, damp depths of the Cistern. Coupled with his velvety smooth voice, it worked well to alleviate people's suspicions in him compared to his lot. There was something exotic in his features as well, what with his brilliant blue eyes that held a certain, playful twinkle to them. Rowan almost always have a crooked grin on his face, a devilish sort of look that should have warded him away the first time he'd seen it.

He knew he should have paid more attention back then when he decided to take this man into the Guild. Those features were the telltale signs of a troublemaker.

"That's not for me to decide," he sighed as he readjusted the saddle on his horse. He was quite tired from the late night and the sight of Rowan's cheerful face did irritate him a little. "Besides, you are known for getting into trouble, I'm just here to prevent that."

"Do you, Brynjolf, the second-in-command for the Thieves Guild have nothing better to do than follow a little man around? Did you run out of work or something?"

Brynjolf grumbled to himself and climbed onto his horse that let out a protesting whinny at the rough treatment. He gently patted its neck as an apology before he directed it onto the road. Again, he wondered what business he had doing up at this hour, where the sun had barely risen and the air was frigid and damp with dew. Then he faced Rowan with a half-glare and said, "Come on, we haven't got all day."

Rowan shot him a blinding grin, "We do, if we race."

Brynjolf shook his head and spurred his horse into a trot without a word.

"Well, that's no fun," Rowan complained as he followed.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" Brynjolf said without turning to look at him.

Rowan stuck out his tongue behind his back but did keep quiet for most of the way.

* * *

It took hours for them to travel the road to Whiterun. It was a rather pleasant walk, with them basking in the sun, surrounded by trees and graced by the occasional breeze that carried the scent of the river and herbs to them. Even while he was sleep-deprived, Brynjolf enjoyed the journey, even more so when they neared the river and listened to its rushing and gurgling. They had encountered no issues along the way and Brynjolf almost forgot about the potential trouble that can certainly be encountered along the way.

The sky was beginning to darken and turn chilly when the foreboding outline of the Valtheim Towers came into view. And at the base of the nearest tower, a voice rang out.

"You there!" A woman in full hide armor and a red sash around her waist called out to them, "Halt!"

"Great, another one of these," Brynjolf muttered to himself, finally remembering.

He mentally prepared himself for a skirmish and reached for his dagger when Rowan unexpectedly stopped him.

"Hold on, I can talk us out of this," he smiled, eyes twinkling.

Brynjolf weighed his options and moved his hand away from his blade, partly because he was intrigued and also because he was not keen to be caught in another fight. He let Rowan go on ahead and watched the exchange.

"What seems to be the problem, milady?" Rowan asked as he got off from his horse. The air about him was changed and he seemed quite the gentleman as he peered at the bandit in what looked like genuine concern and confusion.

"This is a toll road," she said, her face set in a scowl as she subtly lifted her cloak to reveal her mace, "It's two hundred septims if you want to pass through."

Brynjolf raised his head and spotted a couple of bandits standing on the bridge and one right on top of the tower. They were watching the two intently, their weapons at the ready. The archer at the top had his bow out and an arrow in his fingers, ready to be drawn and fired upon them.

Rowan had noticed them as well and looked upon them with calculated deliberation.

"Oh my," he gasped, worry showing on his face at the sight of the armed men.

"Hand over the gold," she bared her teeth, her hand inching towards her mace.

"All those men up there and they have sent a lovely maiden like you to do all the hard work?"

"What?"

Rowan took a good, long look at her, "You are clearly a beautiful and strong woman and they made you cook? Stand on the frontlines while they idle about up there? Do these men have no idea how they should treat a lady?"

The bandit hesitated, staring at him in bewilderment.

"They have no idea do they?" Rowan shook his head in disappointed, "A strong maiden like you should be looked up to."

He unfastened his dagger from his belt and tossed it to the side where it skittered on the rocks and landed in the river with a splash. Brynjolf was alarmed at such a decision and his horse let out a cautious snort when it sensed his mood.

Rowan had no such qualms as he lowered himself to his knees in front of the bandit, right within striking distance.

"A fair, strong and beautiful maiden like you should be cherished like jewels and gold. Held in high regard"

The bandit began to relax and looked upon him appraisingly.

His voice turned husky as he went on, "You, my fair, strong and beautiful lady, should be showered with the deepest love and affection… I, enraptured by your beauty, ensnared by my lady's charms, I submit to your strength."

She looked awed, "You submit to me?"

"Aye," Rowan breathed, unconsciously nearing her form and his hand drifted up, looking as if he wanted to touch her but was afraid of causing offence. "You have the strength of a true warrior, the elegance of a Divine maiden. Surely I must've been blessed for having you grace my sights. Your skin, so supple and so soft, a dainty petal. Your eyes, so beautifully fierce and bright. And your lips… as rosy and pure as a fiery sunset."

The bandit blushed deeply at his words.

"No one had ever said that to me before," she admitted shyly.

"Then I shall say it," Rowan declared with the air of a poet, "I shall say it twice, thrice, as many times as you need, my radiant, sweet goddess! And I will serve, forevermore."

Brynjolf rolled his eyes while no one is looking.

The bandit looked quite taken by him and gazed shyly into the depths of his cerulean blue eyes, where he gazed intently into hers. Both of them looked lost in whatever world they were caught in, until a gruff voice called out.

"Hey! What's going on down there!"

The bandit snapped out of whatever trance that she was caught in and looked upon Rowan in concern, "You've got to go."

Rowan looked distressed, "But, my lady-"

"Go," she said to him, "I'll handle this."

The bandit suddenly noticed Brynjolf and looked at him suspiciously.

"He's a friend," Rowan said, "You need not worry."

"Alright," she said, turning to Rowan, "Leave, quickly!"

"I'm coming down!" The other bandit shouted.

"I'll be back for you, my love, my goddess," Rowan vowed in a choked voice after he jumped onto his horse, he cast his grief-filled eyes upon her, "I promise."

"I'll be waiting," she said, "Now go!"

He and Brynjolf spurred their horses into a gallop and left the towers behind.

* * *

"Did you see that?" Rowan laughed for the fifth time as he closed the doors behind them, "That looked like it came straight out from a romantic tale!"

"I may have seen too much," Brynjolf grumbled as he unfastened the buckles on his shirt. He pulled off his armor and draped it carefully on the chair already occupied by his gloves.

"Nonsense," he chuckled as he tugged his gloves off and threw them onto the dresser, "There's no such thing as too much."

"Hm."

Brynjolf took off his boots and set them by the bed as he proceeded to lie in it with a great sigh of relief. He pulled the covers over himself and got ready to get some long awaited sleep.

"Brynjolf?"

"Yes?"

"There's only one bed."

Brynjolf opened his eyes to the unwelcome sight of Rowan smiling up in his face. "You don't mean to sleep with me, do you?"

"Absolutely not," he snapped, unwilling to move from his spot. "I almost forgot, there's a bedroll in my saddlebag, go get it."

The other male looked shocked, "That's all the way at the stables!"

"If you want to sleep, go get it," Brynjolf insisted, "I'm not letting you into the same bed as me."

"You could sleep in the bedroll and I can take the bed," Rowan suggested.

"Not a chance," he said, turning away from him.

"Come on, Brynjolf."

"Bugger off," Brynjolf muttered, "I won't change my mind."

"Bryn…" Rowan started to whine.

Brynjolf responded by ducking under the blanket.

"Fine," Rowan said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like he's pouting. The doors were opened and the sounds of the tavern and music filtered in. Then they were closed and all was quiet once again.

He sighed again and prayed to all the Divines that Rowan might not come up with some terrible plan to disrupt his sleep.

* * *

Brynjolf awoke the next morning rested and refreshed. He sat up in the bed and stretched. He looked around the empty room, enjoying the quiet as he slowly put on his boots. The thief got up and was halfway across to the doors when he felt that something was not quite right.

He turned to face the empty room and stood there for a long moment.

"Rowan?" He called. It was rather unsettling as there were no signs of the other man anywhere. The gloves that he'd seen him take off was nowhere to be found, nor was any of his belongings. It was slowly becoming clear that Rowan had not even brought a bedroll in as he suggested.

He had a bad feeling about this, as a dozen awful scenarios ran through his head about what Rowan might have done while he was not in the room. He could've ran into some trouble, or caused some trouble even before he did his job. Or worse, he decided to do the job before the time they have agreed on just because it might be more fun.

If any news got out, Mercer is going to have his head for it.

Brynjolf threw on his shirt and hurriedly made his way to the door when it creaked open, revealing the missing thief.

Rowan startled upon seeing him, he had not expected the other man to be awake and getting ready to look for him, judging from the state of his dress.

"Good morning," he smiled sheepishly.

"Where were you?" Brynjolf demanded. That was when he noticed a certain odour on the other man, "What did you- Never mind, I don't want to know about that. Wait, I want to know about that, who in oblivion did you sleep with?!"

"It wasn't anyone important," Rowan said with a disarming smile as he walked past him into the room.

"That's good," Brynjolf said, relieved. Then he remembered that he should not believe anything that comes out of Rowan's mouth and rushed after him, "No, I didn't mean to say that. I want to know who you slept with?"

That was when he noticed a particular red sash sticking out of his belt and quickly snatched at it.

"Hey!"

"What is this?" He questioned with a frown, holding the sash up to him.

Rowan looked nervous for once, "Ah, well… it was a gift."

"Rowan…" Brynjolf gave a heavy sigh, "Please don't tell me you actually sought out that bandit to sleep with her."

Rowan shot him another nervous smile, "Not just with her."

When he looked like he wasn't going to answer, Brynjolf started to direct a glare at him, "Who. Else?"

"Carlotta?"

Brynjolf promptly slapped him in the face with the sash.

* * *

"Come on, Brynjolf, she wouldn't know it was me," Rowan protested.

Currently, he was securely tied up around his wrists, upper arms, thighs and ankles. He was thrown over the back of his own horse and tied up again to ensure that he would not fall off. All sharp objects were taken from him, excluding the dagger that he'd lost yesterday. Clearly, Brynjolf was not going to take any more chances and allow him to escape and be a nuisance to him or anyone else.

"Even so, you should never, ever sleep with our targets," Brynjolf said unhappily, "Or a bandit. You're now forbidden to sleep around while you're on a job."

"What, you can't do thi- mrrghhh."

"Shut up."

Rowan gave a muffled protest around the sash.

Brynjolf led the horse forward before climbing on his own horse, "Time to head home."

Rowan struggled in his bonds and gave another unhappy protest.

"What was that? I can't hear you!" Brynjolf chuckled to himself and finally felt great about their situation.

He might actually look forward to this "job".

* * *

**Fun fact: Brynjolf was actually still asleep when Rowan was going out on the job, Delvin was the one who woke him. He was there when Mercer was shouting at him XD.**

**Also, Mercer actually forgot Rowan's name and thought it was Rodent.**


	2. I Knew You were Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You know, if he wasn't a villain, Mercer is basically an angry, grumpy old man. At least to me anyway, XD. I don't know why, he's not even that old. Oh, also I forgot to mention that Rowan had a scar as well. A claw mark on his left cheek. Oops.
> 
> No warnings for this one, just Rowan's recruitment day.

 

 

* * *

"I'm telling you, Mercer," Brynjolf insisted as he followed Mercer to his desk, "This man is good, things surely must be looking up for the guild, for all of us."

"You said the last one was good and look what happened to her," Mercer snapped irritably.

"That was a shame," Brynjolf uttered and quite frankly burst out, "But Mercer, I've seen this man work and it was…"

Mercer watched him as he struggled for a suitable word, "It was brilliant! Simply brilliant, I have never seen someone with that kind of skill before. You should've been there; you'll know what I'm talking about. I'd tested him myself and what he did was unexpected, it was as if watching an illusionist at work! Not that I've ever seen one but you know what I mean. We need him in our ranks, it's that simple."

Mercer stared at him, slightly unnerved at his enthusiasm. He had never seen Brynjolf this excited before. In fact, Brynjolf hardly appear excited at anything, much less at the prospect of finding someone new in these tough times.

He tore his eyes away from the smiling Nord and peered down at his letters, "You said you saw him doing all these things, what good is a thief if he could be clearly seen during his work?"

"That was the beauty of it!" Brynjolf gushed, "It was like… like art! A performance! Magic, even. He was manipulating them, playing with his victims, moving them with only his words and he took from them right under everyone's noses and they didn't even realize!"

"A thief works under the shadows, Brynjolf," Mercer said sternly as he began sorting through the letters, quickly reading some of them with a hard gaze, "I hardly see him fitting if he only knows to execute our work with such… grandeur."

"He does blend in well," Brynjolf insisted, "I saw him disappear completely into the shadows as if he were a shade. I suspect he'd chosen to act in plain sight."

Mercer gave him a scrutinizing stare, wondering what manner of otherworldly witchcraft had possessed his right hand man to see merit in such a thing.

"You are certain he will do well?" He asked hesitantly.

"Aye," Brynjolf said, "I am confident he will aid to restore our guild."

"Alright," Mercer nodded, "We'll see this new recruit of yours. Make sure he knows how we do things around here."

"Of course."

* * *

Mercer studied the man standing in front of him with narrowed eyes while Brynjolf introduced him.

He looked rather slight, a little shorter than the average. That's a suitable size for their line of work. He seemed quite agile from how he'd moved, and sure-footed, another good quality for a thief. His eyes were bright and alert, another good thing. And if what Brynjolf said were true, they'd certainly come upon quite the asset.

All in all, Mercer has no problems regarding this new addition to their guild.

The only problem he has is the fact that the recruit is smiling at him.

He is smiling.

_Smiling._

There was no trace of fear or apprehension on his face. In fact, the man looked downright devious as he stared at Mercer with such a look on his face. Even Thyrnn did not dare to look at him with such blatant disrespect.

That is when Mercer knew he would rather stay away from this man as much as possible.

"Mercer?"

The Guildmaster pretended that he wasn't just glaring fixatedly at the man and announced in his usual waspish voice, "Now that introductions are out of the way, I want to make things perfectly clear. You do what we say, when we say it, no questions, no discussions. Break our rules and you'll get nothing in return, you got that?"

"Of course, sir," the man grinned.

His voice caught Mercer off guard and he now know very well that he should never, ever get himself mixed in with the likes of this man. He glanced over at Brynjolf and realized that he had seen no such thing as he cheerfully spoke with the recruit about their various rules and conduct, as well as some of the services that he can hope to find here.

"If that is all," Mercer cleared his throat when Brynjolf finally stops talking, "Brynjolf will show you around and get you set up for your first job."

He was about to leave and go back to whatever he was doing when Brynjolf said, "Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, yes. Of course." Mercer slowly turned back around and looked at the new recruit in all seriousness (and reluctance), "Welcome to the Thieves Guild."

* * *

**And then he booked it.**


	3. Unlike in the game, we have a Guildmaster's bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: …Is this still crack? I am not sure, it felt too serious to be a crack but then it feels too ridiculous to be a standard fic (saying this as I looked at the stuff I have planned). Well, as per website guidelines, the rating has rose due to the semi-descriptive sexual contents. Also my first time writing these scenes, I have mulled over this for almost a month dammit D: I don't know, let me know if it's any good?
> 
> Warnings: One actual sex scene and Brynjolf talks dirty (don't ask me how he knew to do it)

 

When Rowan opened his eyes, he found himself draped bodily on top of Brynjolf. Both of his arms were wrapped around the other's neck and his face in the perfect position to nuzzle him right above his collarbone. They were both completely naked, their bodies exposed to the damp, cool air of the room. Even so, he felt comfortable basking in their shared warmth. The white silken blanket was the only thing covering their nudity. It was draped haphazardly across their hips, with their naked legs extending from under the covers.

Beside him, Brynjolf was still asleep, one of his arm holding him close, his hand resting on top of Rowan's hip.

Aside from the messy state of the bed, the rest of the room around them looked like a disaster zone. Clothes and pieces of armor were strewn all over the stone floor among various books, loose pieces of paper that are clearly important documents. There are stray pieces of gold coins, jewelry and various gemstones scattered all over the floor and the desk. A small silver bowl lay overturned beside it, gleaming in the dull light from a candle burning low as it edges towards the bottom of the stick.

Rowan sighed contently as he shifted closer to the other's warmth, intending to close his eyes and rest some more.

He changed his mind a second later as he pushed himself onto his elbow and peered down at Brynjolf's serene face.

Smiling, he traced a finger lightly along his jawline, feeling the growing stubble prick his skin. His finger then traveled down his throat, over the love bites that he'd left there last night. Brynjolf's face twitched as he muttered nonsense in his sleep. Amused, Rowan continued down between his collarbones and down some more. His exploration brought him to his bare chest. Rowan marveled at how large and well built the man is, despite having seen his naked flesh a number of times. He refrained himself from straight out fondling Brynjolf and continued to trace his way around the firm muscles, beginning to circle around a nipple that had the telling sign of a bruise underneath.

Brynjolf made another noise at his ministrations and opened his eyes.

They flickered over to focus on Rowan. Upon seeing him, he gave a tired sigh almost immediately, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just… admiring," Rowan said in a low voice and punctuated that with a playful squeeze to his chest.

Brynjolf hummed, proceeding to ignore him and closed his eyes.

Rowan narrowed his eyes at the blatant dismissal. Then, he smiled as he ran his hand down the taut muscles on Brynjolf's stomach. They involuntarily twitched at the teasing touch and he smiled to himself as Brynjolf had to suppress a giggle. He snatched Rowan's exploring hand in his own and muttered an annoyed, "Stop that."

"Why should I?" Rowan said cheerfully and reached for him with his other hand.

Brynjolf anticipated the move and wordlessly rolled onto the smaller man in retaliation. Rowan let out a startled squawk, trying and failing to escape as he uselessly flailed at the edge of the bed, trapped underneath Brynjolf's much larger, heavier form.

"Get off!" Rowan cried out as he struggled, "Move, you great, lumbering ox!"

"I am a thief," Brynjolf mumbled unintelligibly as he unceremoniously smacked a large hand onto Rowan's face and left it there, "Go back to sleep."

"Bryn!"

Brynjolf ignored him completely and started to snore.

"I can't breathe…" he wheezed, desperately patting his back in an effort to rouse him.

"Okay," Brynjolf grumbled under his breath.

"Please, I'm going to die…" Rowan tried to push him off again.

Brynjolf finally took pity on him and rolled back the other way, allowing Rowan to take a much-needed gasp of air. He unexpectedly hopped on top of Brynjolf immediately after, sitting on his hips and planted both hands on his chest. Brynjolf opened his eyes at the sudden rush of movement and caught Rowan flashing a playful smirk at him. The blankets had fallen away such that he got a full view of his lean, bare body.

Brynjolf was about to speak when the other man grinded his ass on his crotch with a large, self-satisfied smile.

"You little minx," he growled as he grabbed onto his hips. "Did you not have enough last night?"

Rowan's eyes were alight with laughter as he kept rubbing on him, "Oh, love, it's never enough."

At that, Brynjolf snarled and flipped them over suddenly. Rowan laughed breathlessly as his back hit the mattress, his wrists pinned to the bed as Brynjolf loomed over him with a heated gaze, "Someone is finally awake."

Brynjolf bared his teeth and began to nip at his already bruised neck. Rowan gasped as pleasure spiked through him, he tried to rub his member against the other's again but his hips were trapped by their current position. Rowan let out a disappointed whine and fruitlessly tried to wriggle free, where his lover ignored him and kept peppering kisses onto his neck. Brynjolf moved to capture his lips and Rowan enthusiastically deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth, his tongue dancing against Brynjolf's as he happily explored the warm caverns of his mouth.

"I should punish you for waking me up," Brynjolf muttered against his lips when they broke the kiss, panting.

"I would like that," he whispered.

He chuckled as he kissed the corner of his lips, "Now tell me, what should I do to you?"

"You tell me, Brynjolf," Rowan gave an inviting smile, "What would you like to do to me?"

Brynjolf smiled at him and moved to murmur in his ear, his voice a low rumble, "I'd like to tie you to this bed and take you apart, slowly…" He punctuated that with a brief squeeze to his wrists.

Rowan gasped as Brynjolf grind down onto him, "I'll taste and mark every inch of your skin as I sink into you, slowly, inch by inch. You won't be able to move even if you wanted to, even if you need to, to chase the pleasure that you crave."

Brynjolf started kissing his neck as he murmured, "The pleasure that is mine to give. And I will watch as you grow ever desperate, straining against your bonds as I make you beg for it, until you become an incoherent mess that knows nothing but slow, torturous pleasure. And then I will finally take you as you wish, that you'll come so hard that you could only remain in this bed, limp, broken and useless until I come to take you again."

Rowan shuddered and whispered by his ear, "Then do it, break me."

"Eager, are we?" He chuckled, turning his attentions upon a particularly dark bruise on Rowan's neck.

He kissed a path down to his collarbone, then down his chest, paying special attention to the sensitive skin around the two scars on his stomach.

Rowan groaned as he felt Brynjolf loosen him up with his fingers. He was still a little sore from last night but he was loose enough that he thinks he could easily take him in entirely once they were past this stage.

It wasn't long before Brynjolf began to breach him slowly. His toes clenched and his fingers dug into his love's shoulders as he began to open up.

Just then, the door slammed open, followed by an urgent, "Brynjolf!"

Brynjolf was startled by the noise and jerked violently, tearing a yelp out of Rowan as he was thrust into all of a sudden.

Frowning, Brynjolf turned to the door to find Delvin staring at them.

" _Delvin_!"

"I apologize, sir," Delvin said, still staring openly at them.

"The doors were locked!"

Delvin smiled sheepishly, looking like he wanted to be elsewhere in that very moment, "It… It was important?"

Brynjolf sighed, "Give me a moment."

He turned back to Rowan as the doors closed and asked in a tender voice, "Are you alright?"

"I-I suppose," Rowan said, experimentally thrusting back against him and elicited a low groan. "It's certainly not the worse."

Brynjolf stopped him from moving and said apologetically, "I have to get to work."

"Oh." Rowan looked disappointed at that, "I suppose that is inevitable, perhaps I should wake you up earlier next time."

He was waiting for Brynjolf to pull out and was surprised when he didn't. Instead, after what seems like a moment of deliberation, Brynjolf lifted one of his legs and placed it on his shoulder while pressing himself further in.

"Brynjolf?" Rowan gasped as he frantically grabbed at the other from the sudden movement.

He let out a moan when Brynjolf abruptly pulled out and thrust back into him. And he did it again, and again and again.

"Ah… ah! Are- Are you not going to see to that matter?" Rowan asked in a strangled voice, one hand clutching onto the bed sheet and the other grabbing desperately onto Brynjolf's shoulder.

"I'm the Guildmaster, love," Brynjolf gave a breathy chuckle at that, "I can do whatever I want."

* * *

(Random) Bonus Scene:

Delvin: You're late, Brynjolf. I see he's rubbed off on you (referring to Rowan's irresponsibility)

Brynjolf: Oh, he'd certainly rubbed off on me alright (referring to something else)

Delvin: Yeah. (Realizes) Wait, no, not like that!


	4. Do you want to know how I got these scars?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: In the work that I am writing, the different standing stones in Skyrim is treated like horoscopes, people born under certain stones will have its abilities, the strength of the abilities will vary depending at the time of their birth. So some people will have weaker abilities than others and etc.
> 
> Also, the Thieves Guild members are given more distinct personalities based on their dialogues and my first impressions of them. It may not hold true as they are pretty much drunk in this, so yeah.
> 
> Enjoy :P

 

* * *

The Cistern was bursting with merriment that night as most of the thieves sat down together for a leisurely drink.

They were seated by the pool of water, around plates filled with meats and cheese laid out on the floor. They were also surrounded by a few dozen bottles of various wines and mead they've taken from the Flagon. Talk and laughter echoed off the walls as they celebrated the revival of the Thieves Guild as it drove its long arms deep into the major cities of Skyrim.

The thieves were getting drunk, having guzzled about a dozen bottles of the finest wine that they could find, as they began their talk into more trivial things.

"I believe he's under the Steed Stone," Rowan suggested as he took a small sip from his mug.

Cynric starts laughing heartily, "Right, that story!"

"He pretends to be shamed but then he goes around telling everyone about it," Niruin muttered, watching the liquid slosh around in his tankard as he tilted it about, "Twice."

"Where is he now?" Cynric asked as he took a swig of his drink.

"Busy running off to another job," Thrynn snorted as he tore into a chunk of grilled goat.

The group burst into chuckles over the matter.

Thrynn tossed his drink back and cast his judging eyes upon Rowan.

"And you? Aren't you under the Shadow?" He asked suddenly.

Rowan turned to him with a huge smirk, "Well, yes."

Before Thyrnn could say anything about that, Cynric let out a huge sigh as he got onto his shaky feet.

"Oh, I am envious," Cynric admitted as he pointed his swaying tankard at Rowan, "How are you so fortunate to have been born directly-  _directly_ , under the Shadow Stone. I'm barely under the Lord and it's mighty useless! And  _you_ , you blend into the darkness with nary an effort!"

He tossed his drink back and Niruin laughed, "Slow down you lightweight, we've a long night ahead of us!"

"Who're you calling a lightweight?!"

"Leave him be," Thrynn groused, "That idiot always drinks too much."

"What can I say? Better drunk than sober!" Cynric spread his arms sloppily, forgetting he had a drink in his hand and spilled the entire thing.

"Hey, the cheese, mind the cheese!" Rune exclaimed, picking up the plate. "I paid solid gold for this cheese!"

"You're the only one here who cares about the cheese," Thrynn complained, draining an entire bottle of mead.

Rowan laughed as he dropped a chunk of pheasant into his mouth.

"It's the gold, the jewels that are real valuable," Thrynn continued on his rant and raised another bottle, "Even this mead here, much better than some stupid cheese."

"But I paid for these…" Rune said sadly.

"You paid?!" The former bandit spat out his mead.

The group roared with laughter. Cynric fell over from his unsteady movement and knocked over a few bottles of wine. They rolled down the stone floor and into the water, bobbing cheerfully across the surface of the water.

Cynric shakily got back onto his feet, "Oops."

"Get him in the water!" Thrynn shouted angrily.

Cynric raised a finger as he swayed on his feet, "'s alright. I can get in myself."

The man proceeded to fall into the knee-deep waters face-first. It drew another bout of laughter from the group as he turned and pulled himself upright, cursing and spluttering in surprise.

"It's bloody cold in here!" He shivered.

"Of course it is, you blubbering fool!" Thrynn jeered.

The poor man uselessly paddled back to the edge and pulled himself out of water. He dripped water all over Niruin, who cursed and unceremoniously shoved him back into the pool.

His fellow thieves laughed at his plight as he surfaced and screamed, "Bullies! Thugs, scoundrels and ruffians, all of you!"

"Sod off!"

Cynric huffed as he pulled himself out of the pool again and proceeded to drip water all over Rune and his cheese. Rune yelped in protest, then moved to sit far away from him, right next to Rowan who chuckled as he took a sip of wine from his tankard.

Niruin was staring at the latter when he mentioned, "So, you're the only one who's got a scar." He tapped his own left cheek, "What's the story behind that?"

Thrynn scoffed, "Was it from one of your maidens who found out you were a whore?"

"That is beyond rude," Rune said in his defense.

Rowan ignored both of them as he popped a bit of cheese into his mouth. He chewed for a moment before muttering, "It was from a bear."

"What?" Thrynn spat.

"Ho, our golden boy here fought a bear!" Cynric said sarcastically.

Rune looked impressed, "Really?"

"No?" Cynric looked confused, "I think not."

Niruin stroked his chin as he studied the scar, "It looks like it was from a cat."

"A sabre?"

"A house cat."

"An angry Khajiit!" Cynric laughed.

Rowan laughed as he took another sip of wine, "No, you fools, it was from a bear."

"Go on then, Rodent," Thrynn said in a challenging tone, "Tell us your story."

He popped open another bottle of wine, pouring it into his tankard as he started, "It was during one of the days when I was a wandering bard. I was on my way to Markarth. It was approaching dusk, I was in the mountains surrounded by juniper trees when I came upon a bear in the dark."

"So what did you do?"

"The only thing that is sensible," Rowan said, "I ran away from it."

Cynric burst out laughing and Thrynn turned to glare at him.

"What? It was funny."

The former bandit rolled his eyes.

"Now," Rowan said as he began his story, lowering his tone as if narrating a great tale. "I was at a severe disadvantage. The way is dark and full of dangers when suddenly, the bear attacks me!"

"The great beast slowly rises on its hind legs. Its form towers over me, throwing its black shadow over the trees. Its enormous form blocks the waning moon above. Its eyes are as red as blood, they bore into my very soul and pierce into my skull. There was a cold chill in the air as it huffs, its breath misting the air around us in damp, foggy clouds. A loud, guttural growl reverberated as if from the heart of the mountain, my heart pounds along with it."

Rowan smirked in satisfaction as the thieves stared at him, captivated.

"I watch as the beast opens its great, big maw," he clasped his hands together, one on top of the other with crooked fingers on one hand in between of those on the other. He parted them to imitate an opening jaw. "Its dark lips curls back to reveal rows upon rows of yellowed, dagger-like fangs, glinting from the pale moonlight."

He paused, making a show of holding his breath with a look of dread on his face.

"SNAP!" He exclaimed as he suddenly snapped his hands back together. His audience jumped and he held back the urge to laugh, even more so when Thrynn began glaring at him.

Rowan switched back to his low, serious tone as he continued, "I stare straight at it, my heart thundering in my chest, my blood roaring in my ears. I should not make any sudden movements to agitate it any further. Once again, it opens its massive maw and let out a roar that sounds as if the jaws of Oblivion are opening right beneath my feet. My mind is blank, there is no other thing I could think of, except to get away from the dark beast as soon as possible."

"I turn and run, as quickly as my weakening legs can carry me. I feel as if I am running in a bog, my legs are numb from the fear rushing through my veins. Behind me, I can hear its unholy roar, reverberating, tearing through my flesh. My heart feels as if it is going to beat out of my chest, beating in time with the thunderous footsteps as it came charging at me. Plants and twigs cut through my trousers and into my skin but I can feel none of it. Its hot, wet breath ghost over the back of my neck as it snarls and growls and grunts right behind me. Twigs snapping and rocks crumbling under its feet. I duck under a fallen tree, the cold air stabbing my lungs. And, a heart-stopping CRASH! Pieces of chipped wood fall to the ground just by me. Its enraged roar send a rush of air into my back and I could not help but turn, and see that the truck had snapped in two and the bear is glaring at me with red, blooded eyes."

The Cistern was silent except for his voice as they stared at him.

"I dart towards the rocky hill as the beast bring its paws down unto me, the ground that I was just standing had been crushed under its feet. I let myself fall down the face of the rocks. And it follows me, unrelenting, as it tumbles down the hill with me. The air was knocked out of me when I hit the bottom, my sides ache but I could not stop for comfort as the snarling and growling is still right by me. I tossed my pack and my broken lute aside, hoping to distract it. But the bear was determined, it was going to have me, one way or another. I realize this just as a force knocked me to the ground, the beast having successfully struck me in the back. I gasp and struggle and twist onto my back, the bear roaring, its fangs glittering and hot spittle landing on my face. I knew that I was a dead man as it raises its claws and brings it down in a flash. Hot, stinging pain erupted on my face, there was a wetness and I knew that I bled. It rises for another strike, a killing blow, my hands scrambled for anything, anything useful that could help me buy some time. My hand grasps onto what seems to be a stone. I fling the stone at it with all my might, with all the strength that I could muster. The stone strikes the bear in the eye and it snarls in pain. I turn and try to crawl back onto my feet. But my strength was gone and I collapse back onto the ground, certain that I'd met my doom."

Rowan trailed off, letting it sink in.

"That was when a voice, a shrill voice calls out from the dark. 'Hey, ugly!' She yelled. At that time I hoped she wasn't referring to me as I was sure, my face had been marred and covered in blood beyond recognition."

There was a low chuckle among the thieves as Rowan smiled.

"The beast was distracted and an arrow flew from the trees and embedded itself in its other eye. It roared, and more arrows fly, right into its gaping mouth. And it was felled, the great form of the bear crashed to the ground. It was all silent and still."

"And from the trees emerged a maiden, the great huntress who defeated the great beast that chased me so. 'Are you alright?' She asked."

"All I could do was stare at her, for she was far fairer and more beautiful than any huntress I have laid my eyes upon."

"There it is," Thrynn snorted.

Rowan ignored him, "'Aye,' I replied. 'I have never been better.' To that, she laughed, 'How can that be, when you are bleeding so terribly?' So I looked at her and said, with the utmost sincerity, 'It was your fairness that healed my ills. With such a striking beauty in sight, how can I feel any pain?' So taken was she by my words that she blushed a most pretty shade of red. 'Come with me,' she said graciously, 'And let me tend to your wounds. My camp is this way.' I accepted her request, and went with her."

Rowan paused and took a sip of his mead.

"What happened next?" Rune asked, curious.

Rowan looked like he was about to say something, then stopped. "Oh, look at the time, it's quite late," he said smilingly, "I think I've had enough, time for bed."

"What? Wait," Cynric protested when he stood up, "You haven't told us the rest?"

"The rest?"

"You know, the night with your fair huntress?"

"Ah, yes, it's quite-" Rowan looked down the Cistern, "Hey look, the boss is calling me."

"Huh?" Rune craned his neck in the direction that he's looking, "I don't see-"

"Gotta go!"

Rowan ran off before the rest can say anything else.

"He's a devil," Niruin commented as he downed another tankard of wine.

"I wanted to hear more about the huntress…" Cynric grumbled as he flopped onto the stone floor.

Thrynn stared at where he saw Rowan last, "I still do not believe he got that scar from a bear."

"Why is that?"

"Well, he'd be dead if he took a blow from a bear."

"How do you know that?" Rune asked.

Cynric perked up immediately, "Is it because you bandit types like to 'get friendly with the wildlife'?"

Thrynn threw a bottle at him and almost nailed him in the face. Apparently Cynric was no longer drunk enough to be an easy target.

"I agree with Thrynn," Niruin said calmly, "A bear would've killed him with a strike from its claws."

"So what do you propose?" Cynric asked.

"We get him to admit the truth, one way or another."

* * *

Brynjolf walked towards the archery range, hoping to sharpen his blade when he spotted Thrynn cornering Rowan once again. He felt a sense of resignation, he thought that Rowan had learnt his lessons last time about daring to mess with that one. Thrynn aimed a punch at his face, which Rowan easily avoided. The former bandit was gearing up for another assault when Brynjolf rushed in.

"Stop!" He barked.

Thrynn and Rowan both turned to him and Brynjolf was surprised when the former bandit regarded him with mortification rather than anger.

"What's going on?" He asked, puzzled.

"We're having a… urm," Thrynn stammered, "A little combat practice! That's it."

Brynjolf raised a brow at him, "Rowan?"

He shrugged, "Whatever he said."

Brynjolf stared at the both of them suspiciously.

"Alright then," he said finally and went on his way.

However, as he left, he heard Thrynn whisper, "Twenty septims and you tell me what really happened that day."

Brynjolf turned to look at them curiously and walked right into the grindstone.

* * *

The Guild leader rubbed at his bruised shin while he sat at the edge of the pool, wondering about the scene he'd seen a few while ago.

It was then that he saw Rowan walk across the bridge with Cynric in tow.

"Oh come on," Cynric grumbled, "Tell me what it was again, was it a cat? A Khajiit?"

"It was a bear."

"No, you didn't mention a bear," Cynric said, "It must be a Khajiit, I remembered you said a Khajiit."

Rowan scoffed, "You must've been drunk, it was not a Khajiit."

" _You_  were drunk!" Cynric protested, "You mentioned a Khajiit, a female Khajiit in fact, with light fur and shapely body and you were invited to her camp."

"What?" Rowan stopped and stared at him for a long moment.

"You said a Khajiit."

"Ah, yes, I see what you're trying to do." Rowan chuckled, "It was an interesting strategy but it'll never work because I never get drunk."

He patted Cynric in the shoulder and swiftly left.

Brynjolf watched as Cynric sighed in disappointment, before he ran after Rowan, "You still did not tell me more about that huntress of yours!"

And once again, he was left wondering when the both of them were gone.

* * *

At the training room, he heard Niruin muttering, "I'll make a bet with him and get him to beat me in unlocking the chests, deliberately lose and then buy a drink for him, perhaps a couple, and get him drunk enough to start talking."

"Well, he just said that he never gets drunk."

There was a long silence as the words sank in.

"Damn."

* * *

"But I heard Thrynn said that it can't be a bear," Rune said.

Brynjolf sat at the table with Delvin and just happened to hear another snippet of conversation. He was hoping to take his mind off the strange happenings with a meal at the Flagon but of course, he had to hear something.

"It was a bear, believe it or not."

"Really?"

"Really."

Rune fiddled with his bottle for a moment before he insisted, "Well, Niruin said it wasn't either, I don't know what to believe."

"Just trust me."

"Okay."

The man watched the liquid slosh around in his bottle and suddenly said, "But I heard otherwise, they said it wasn't possible, even Cynric mentioned it when I asked him."

Rowan actually sighed, "It was… It was a bear."

* * *

"The Guild seems to be astir," Mercer announced angrily in the office, "What I want to know is why that is the case, why do I see all of them,  _all of them_  behaving strangely today?"

"Almost all of them," Delvin corrected, "Vipir is still out there on his job."

Mercer proceeded to glare viciously at him.

"Alright," he held up his hands, "I'll be quiet."

"BRYNJOLF!" Mercer yelled suddenly, making the man jump, "Surely you must know what the oblivion is going on. This whole… disarray revolves around that Rodent of yours, care to explain?"

"I have no idea, sir."

"You have no idea?!"

"Uh…"

"Oh, give him a break," Vex rolled her eyes before Mercer could shout again.

" _What?"_

And as Mercer gave her a long, hard stare, Delvin spoke up, "They're all trying to get Rowan to tell them where his scars came from."

The Guild leaders all stared at him.

"What?"

"He'd already told them but none of them believed him."

"The fools," Vex looked annoyed, "You cannot be serious."

"I'm serious, it's all very entertaining." Delvin laughed, "Can you believe it, all that ruckus over a scar? I love it!"

"Well, I don't," Mercer growled.

"Why is that?"

"Because none of them are doing their damn jobs!" He roared.

* * *

Rowan snuck out of the Guild before anyone could catch him, having had enough of the others pestering him for an answer.

As he rounded a corner, a young child bumped into him.

"I'm sorry!" She blurted, then took a long look at him, "What's that on your face, mister?"

Rowan chuckled as he got down into a crouch, "It's a scar, do you want to feel it?"

She nodded and traced the mark with a look of wonder on her face.

"Wow…" She marveled at it, "What is it from?"

"I got it from a bear," Rowan answered with a smile.

"Wow, really?"

Rowan laughed, "No, not really."

"Then what did you get it from?" The child asked.

"A tree branch, while I'm running away from the bear."

The child giggled, "You're funny, mister."

"Aye, I'm glad you think so," Rowan said. "And do you know how I got away from the bear?"

"How? How?"

Rowan smiled, "A huntress killed the bear and saved me."

"Wow… was she pretty?"

"Aye, she was very pretty. She was the prettiest huntress I have ever seen."

"Wow… is she here? Can I see her?"

"Nay, she's not here, I haven't seen her in years."

"Aw…" the child pouted, "I hope I can see her sometime."

Rowan smiled, "Aye, I hope so too."


End file.
